


Above the Dark Waters

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by Orangeblossom BrambleburrMerry & Pippin spend a sleepless night at the flooding of Isenguard, finding that hearts don't heal as readily as flesh. Fairly dark
Relationships: Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 3
Collections: Least Expected





	Above the Dark Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish hobbits were mine. They're not. I wish I was getting paid. I'm not.
> 
> Feedback: I beg!

> _"We felt very lonely. Not even a visible Ent to talk to in all the ruin; and no news. We spent the night up on top there above the arch, and it was cold and damp and we did not sleep."_
> 
> _Pippin, in The Two Towers_

"Merry," Pippin said softly, "Do you see anyone?"

"Not a soul," Merry replied, pacing nervously. For hours they'd watched the waters that surrounded Isenguard, churning black water under the starry night sky. Their position was secure but terribly lonesome. "Well, lets kindle a fire at least, and perhaps we can refill our pipes as well?"

Pippin nodded silently, working to gather what he could to make a small campfire. The lighting of it was quite a challenge; the air was heavy and humid and every stick and shred of wood was damp. He grimaced, blowing on the weak embers until they finally blossomed into small blaze. The two hobbits sat silently side by side near the fire's warmth, each with the delicately curving stem of a pipe in his mouth, each with his eyes fixed on the patch of sky they could see from the guard tower.

"I don't like all this water," Pippin said suddenly, as though driven to speak by the strangely oppressive silence that had grown up between them.

"No?"

"No," Pippin continued decidedly. "It just isn't right, being surrounded by water deeper than your head; it makes me think of when we were on the boats."

Merry's face was tense in the dim light. "I do rather see what you mean. I'm not fond of it either, but I rather like being in this tower where I know nothing can reach us." His fingers strayed to his forehead, which bore an unpleasant brown scar.

Pippin didn't say anything; too well he understood. Days weren't enough to erase the memories; weeks and years wouldn't be enough. He could still hear Merry's anguished screams just before that scar was made; they'd held Merry and made him watch what was being done, and he'd fought against them, screaming louder than Pippin himself...Pippin shuddered, trying to banish the thoughts that threatened to consume him.

They hadn't spoken of it, neither to each other nor to anyone else. Thus far it hadn't been such a burden; they'd had barely any time alone since their escape. But now...Merry's face was stoic in the firelight but Pippin could plainly see the torment in his eyes.

The strained silence descended again. The bowl of Merry's pipe glowed with a steady rhythm as he inhaled; at the rate he was going he'd burn through every leaf of the pipe weed within hours. His jaw was set but shifting slightly as if he were clenching and unclenching his teeth, and it seemed to Pippin that his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

"Merry," he began slowly.

"Don't. Please..."Merry whispered, refusing to look at Pippin.

Stubbornly Pippin rested his small hand on Merry's arm. "Don't do this, its not..."

Merry wrenched his arm away. "Leave off. Time we were to sleep anyway."

"I don't know that I can sleep," Pippin said, replacing his fingers, "even in Treebeard's home I had trouble, the dreams..."

Merry groaned. "Please, Pip," he said weakly, though he didn't pull away.

"What am I to do?" Pippin said, sounding angry. "Am I to pretend none of it happened? There isn't a soul on earth I'd dare speak of it with aside from you. I cannot turn off the memories, more's the pity that I can't!"

His anger seemed to be Merry's undoing; the tears that had been threatening overflowed, though his expression was one of anger rather than sorrow. "Talking it over won't ease that, Pip," he said, his voice shaking.

"But it must, I feel as a teakettle with no spout, as if all that was done builds inside me and I must release it or burst! You above all I thought would understand!"

There came a broken cry, rather like that of a wounded animal. "Its my fault, Pip, its because of me that you were so abused!"

Pippin was taken aback. "How could any of this be your fault, Merry? You were as helpless as I, you were bound and unconscious..."

"No," Merry rasped, his arms wrapping around himself. "I'm older, I'm bigger; I ought to have protected you! And yet at the first blow I was in the dark, I couldn't even witness what they did!"

"Oh, you mustn't say such things! You may be bigger than me but it scarce mattered in the face of those creatures! Even one so great as Boromir could not..." Pippin stopped short, his throat too tight to speak further of their fallen friend.

"All the more reason I should have! I couldn't help him. I couldn't save him! I should at least have been there for you; I couldn't give you the strength of my presence! I should have been still so that I could at least watch over you! You had no one, I was as useless as...as..." Merry gasped as if holding back a sob, "As an old _mathom_ that's been passed for eleven birthdays!"

"Merry!" Pippin breathed, "Oh, Merry, have you been thinking such things since our escape? You must have suffered so these last few days! I don't lament that you weren't witness to what was done. I am glad you did not see..."

"Perhaps if I was awake I might have done something," Merry interrupted, walking grimly to the window to gaze over the ebony waves. There he stood, one arm propped against the frame, his forehead resting upon it.

Pippin silently approached and slid his arm around Merry's waist. "Merry, dear Merry," he said slowly, as if his words were carefully chosen, "What anguish I felt was eased by your fight to protect me. When they forced me to watch what horrors they wrought on you, that pain I felt myself. And when that great Orc brought his club down on you I feared you'd never wake, but I was relieved that at least you could suffer no more." He was silent for a long moment, his small frame trembling, "And to think you've tormented yourself so for your sleep, when I blessed it! You could not see what humiliations they brought down upon me, such things I give thanks no one saw!"

Merry let loose a tearing sob, turning to crush Pippin to his chest. "Oh, Pip, it's too cruel! You who had to see all that was done to me and then bear up to the same without what companionship I might have given! Oh, that we had never seen such doings, that you might have remained unspoilt!" He lowered his head onto Pippin's shoulder, clinging to the smaller Hobbit as he wept like a child.

The tears came unbidden to Pippin's eyes as he held Merry but he did not bother to brush them aside. He buried his face in Merry's cloak and let them dampen it, the pain washing itself in a flood of tears. Much time passed as they held each other, rocking slowly in the darkness of the tower. When they finally pulled apart the fire had shrunk to a faint pile of ash and warmth. Pippin smoothed Merry's golden brown curls.

"Promise me you won't blame yourself any longer, I can't bear that on top of all there already is to bear. It is behind us, let us leave it there."

"I don't know that I ever can, Pip," Merry replied wearily, "But I shall strive to let go that part of it at least. I'm so exhausted."

"As am I, weary to my very bones," Pippin agreed, "But I fear sleep will yield little comfort. But I won't speak of it anymore; there's clearing the air and then there's just dragging it on. Well, we might as well try. Come, sit with me, at least I do not face the night alone."

Merry backed himself against the wall and drew Pippin close against him. "Do try to sleep at least. We're safe up here, if it is frightfully lonely. And if the nightmares come again I will be here beside you."

"And glad of it, I am," Pippin murmured, settling himself more comfortably under Merry's strong arm. He turned his eyes to the glimpse of sky above, letting himself be soothed by the security of Merry's embrace. The silence grew up around them again but it had lost its strained quality. Now it was a silence that spoke of safety, of peace, of the burden no longer too heavy to bear alone.


End file.
